


Hands

by Rainfallen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Bondage, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:27:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainfallen/pseuds/Rainfallen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you can't keep your hands off your blade, I'll tie them behind your back," he had warned her the first time he caught her sneaking into the dungeon.   This is what happens the second time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Written for mockyrfears's [Game of Thrones kink meme](http://mockyrfears.livejournal.com/2421.html).  
> Prompt: Older Arya/Gendry - Bondage

"If you can't keep your hands off your blade, I'll tie them behind your back," he had warned her the first time he caught her. She had slunk into the dungeon, quiet as a shadow, because a piece of unfinished business by the name of Meryn Trant was living and breathing down in one of the cells, and she meant to put an end to that nonsense. But he had caught her, coming up from gods knew where and catching her wrist before she could slip away from him. He was quicker than he used to be, and she was furious. 

  


"Leave the prisoners be," he said. "They're all to be tried proper, not have their throats slit in the dark."

  


Three days had passed, and when she tried again – careful and slow with godsdamned perfect stealth – there he was again. He didn't try to take her sword like before, but instead stood with his own unsheathed in his hand, with a challenge written all over his face and tension evident in his slightest movement. She was so angry she almost stabbed him right there, but she had few enough friends these days, despite (or perhaps because of) Jon's almost fond tolerance of her choices and habits. It wouldn't do to go cutting up Gendry, no matter how stupid he was. 

  


But as soon as her guard was down and her blade sheathed again, he had her arms pinned to her sides and marched her forcibly back across the grounds to the keep. "I'll go by my self, damn it," she hissed, wriggling, but he didn't care. "What are you doing, sneaking around the dungeons, anyway? You're an armorer, not a guard!"

  


When she plowed to a stop and kicked him, he lifted her straight off the ground and carried her up the stone steps. "Your Lord brother asked me to keep an eye on you," he retorted without even the decency to sound out of breath, "And keep you from doing anything stupid. By whatever means necessary."

  


When she punched him hard in the ribs he caught her wrists in one of his hands and held them there, tight. They battled briefly in front of her chamber door, her knee jammed between his legs and his hands grasping at her arms, and eventually he just pinned her bodily while he reached for the latch with his free hand. He was warm against her, despite the chill in the air, but his fingers fumbled with the latch a long time before he managed to push the door open and nudge her inside. 

  


"I'll climb out the window," she snapped at him without thinking. _Stupid_ , she told herself at once. _Stupid_!

  


"You won't," Gendry said. He spun her around before she could think and lashed her wrists together with a leather thong he'd produced from gods knew where. "Because I'm going to tie you to your bed to keep you here until the Lord decides how to manage you." 

  


She clenched her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. She was going to _kill_ him, and when he was dead, Jon was next. 

  


Arya butted forward while he was bent over tying knots and knocked her head into his with a force that blurred her vision. He cursed colorfully and stumbled back a step. Furious, with her head throbbing, Arya reached for him with her bound hands. But then she was up against the wall, uneven stone digging into her back and Gendry pressed against her, and he had her hands pinned over her head with one hand. "Don't do that again," he said, his voice low and deep and _close._

  


His eyes shone almost black in the dim light, and none of the retorts that rose to her lips were articulate or harsh enough, so she shoved herself up on her toes and pushed her mouth against his, hard and careless with her rage. If he was surprised, his movements didn't show it. He opened his mouth under hers and a groan vibrated in his throat and chest as he slid her further up the wall. Somehow her legs were wrapped around his waist and his free hand was tangled roughly in her hair and the hard press of his cock through the wool of her breeches made her head feel like she was going to burst into flames. She rocked forward against him and he must have understood, because he spun them around and walked until his knees hit the wooden bed frame. 

  


Arya tried to jerk her hands apart in frustration as he lowered her to the bed, because they needed to be sliding down him, digging into him, grasping onto him. But he was stubborn as ever, and bit down on her shoulder with a dissenting sound in his throat. When he insistently pressed her wrists into the mattress above her head, she left them there. 

  


And then she didn't care, because he had shoved up her tunic and was sliding rough hands down over her stomach to tug at the laces on her breeches. She lifted her hips up toward him and cursed him between ragged breaths for moving too slowly. He laughed and she got angry all over again, but he trailed his mouth up over her ribs and then swirled his hot tongue around her nipple and her words dissolved into unintelligible sounds which she hoped he knew meant _yes_ and _there_ and _more_. 

  


Suddenly, the hand that was sliding back down her stomach stopped and he looked up at her with his face framed between her breasts. "Are you going to run?" he asked.

  


"No," she ground out from between clenched teeth, but he smiled that infuriating smile and scooted back up the length of her torso. 

  


"I don't believe you," he whispered into her ear. She felt the leather tighten around her wrists and then the stretch in her arms as he looped it securely around and around the bedpost. "You always run," he told her. 

  


"I do not. Would you shut up and just..." She pulled up her knees and bit her lip and tried to glare at him. It must have worked, because he finally stopped talking. Gendry lifted his shirt over his head with trembling hands and took longer to unlace his trousers than any man who had ever lived. If he wasn't being so _stupid_ she could have had them off him in seconds. And then he just _looked_ at her and she wanted to scream. 

  


"Just – I need to –" she started, and when her words faded into silence he kissed her again.

  


A hundred times in the next scant minutes she would have wrapped her fingers around his cock and guided him into her, because she knew how this worked and she knew what she wanted and, damn it, she wanted it an _hour_ ago, but with no hands all she could do was shift and writhe and bite impatiently at his lips. When he finally slid over her, hot and heavy and teasing, she was almost crying from the frustration. She pressed her hips up to his and wrapped her legs around his waist and said his name like a command, and finally, finally he slid inside her. 

  


Arya screwed her eyes shut and bit down hard on her lip to keep quiet. A warm pulse of pleasure radiated from deep inside her, and when he pulled back almost all the way out of her and then pushed back in, hard and deep, her lip slipped from her teeth and a rough cry escaped from her throat. Gendry covered her mouth with his, hot and slick and not so much kissing as pressing half-formed promises from his lips onto hers. 

  


She pulled her knees up as his movements sped, and rocked back and forth against his rhythm, urging him on. It was almost overwhelming: sensations everywhere and too little time to feel everything and too much and too little of him all at once. His unruly hair brushed soft across her shoulder, and a large hand gripped hard on her hip and his chest slid slick over hers and his cock thrust deep and fast and hard into her again and again and again until every thought fled and she heard her own voice somewhere, begging. 

  


Gendry pushed himself up onto his knees, barely breaking his rhythm, and slid rough fingers down to where they were joined. He rubbed a tight, hard little circle around her – once, twice – and then her world was cut in jagged lines of white, every muscle tensing and releasing, her body clenching and spasming around him and his mouth was on hers again, stifling her gasped moans with his own. 

  


He stilled a moment later , braced up on shaking arms, and lowered his disheveled head to her shoulder. Arya let little moans of approval escape when he dropped a hot line of kisses up and down the column of her throat. 

  


"Are you going to run?" he asked her again as he reached up to unwrap the leather from her sore wrists.

  


"Mmm," she said noncommittally, still unable to steady her breathing. "I guess you'll just have to stay here to make sure.

  


"I thought you were supposed to keep me from doing anything stupid," she added, trying hard to sound cross. 

  


Gendry just chuckled and pulled her onto his heaving chest, breathless at last. 


End file.
